Silent Hill Militia Volume 1 Tranquility Shattered
by Cyber 14
Summary: After returning home, Heather, aka Cheryl, Mason, learns that the cultists' war is far from over, and it will take the aid of a group known only as the Silent Hill Militia to see that peace is finally achieved. HeatherxOC Friendship. Epilogue now up.
1. Trailer

Sorry, this isn't the fic yet. This is a trailer for it. Tell me what you think of it. The fic should be along in a little while.

Note, this trailer might be edited for structure or content. Any suggestions would be appreciated.

() are notes.

are shots.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

("Lost Carol" from SH3 soundtrack plays)

Voiceover, Heather, (wearily): I thought it was over. That day. I thought we were safe. But no, it wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Worse…

Shot of Heather's living room. Heather and a boy, Julian (11 years old, brown hair, blue eyes) sit playing Timesplitters. Heather gets up and goes to kitchen.)

Voiceover, Heather: …I dragged him with me.

("Innocent Moon" plays.)

Heather goes to sink to fill glass. When she does, blood flows from tap. Heather stumbles back and drops glass, which shatters as world changes. Apartment becomes dingy and dilapidated looking.

Voiceover, Heather, (wearily): Here we go again.

Fast-cut shots of Heather loading Beretta, Heather and Julian running down dark hallway, Heather firing at zombie-like monster, Heather kicking open office door, and both descending staircase. Darkness, Succession of gunshots.

Heather and Julian barricaded and hunkered down in nondescript room, door barricaded, Heather has pistol ready.

Julian, (scared): What's going on, Heather?

Heather (worriedly): I don't know.

Tranquility Shattered, Silent Hill Militia Volume 1 

Heather (whispered): God help us…

("Memory of the Waters" plays, fadeout.)

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Note: I'm assuming that Heather kept, at the very least, her Beretta M9 pistol after the events of Silent Hill 3.


	2. I Shall Fear No Evil

Hey there. The fic I promised you on the Silent Hill Heaven forums is here, albeit in chapter form, as it turned out to be longer than I expected.

Rated teen for graphic horror scenes and brief mild language.

All official characters are property of Konami. My OC, Julian, is the property of me, (as are all original characters and organizations in here), Cyber 14. Copyright 2007. All rights reserved.

The official theme song of this fic is Enigma's "In The Shadow, In The Light". It just fits the story so well. Great song, too.

* * *

Riiing!

I look up suddenly.

No, it isn't anything terrifying. It isn't a shambling, moaning specter from the darkest pits of hell. It's my microwave. (Although it does occasionally _sound_ like a shambling, moaning specter from the darkest pits of hell, especially when I've overworked it.) Our popcorn's done.

I walk over to the microwave, take out the bag, and pour it into a bowl.

It's been several months since the "Incident", and life is pretty much back to normal.

I'm at home, and babysitting for a kid named Julian Kansler. No, sorry, not "babysitting" (Julian detests the term) "Staying with" is what we call it.

Julian's a nice kid. I often watch him while his parents, business executives and often busy now, as the company is expanding, go to meetings. He really enjoys coming here. We've been fast friends for a while now. I'm beginning to think he's got a bit of a crush on me. Cute.

Anyway, I leave the kitchen and walk over to the living room. I set the popcorn down on the coffee table and turn on the TV. Julian bounds over and throws himself at my brand new couch. He misses and crashes to the floor, his brown hair flailing everywhere. He jumps up, seemingly unfazed, and plops down on it.

"Yay, popcorn's done!" he says excitedly, "Ooh, kettle corn. Let's get started."

"I don't think you need any more sugar, kiddo. You're hyper enough as it is." I say warily.

'Aw, come on. I'm fine," he says.

Laughing, I reply, "Yeah, tell that to my couch. Alright, you sit down. I'll get us some drinks. What do you want? We've got Coke, Sprite, A&W…that's it."

He chooses a root beer and I walk back into the main area. Julian is now fiddling with my Ipod, which is connected to a boom box sitting on the shelf. We always listen to music while we game. It's just a habit, started by Julian back when we first met. How can I forget the beating I took in Tekken 4 to the song "Down with the Sickness" by Disturbed? Or the famous battle that came to be known as "NKULTRA vs. Rosenkrieg", at a gaming party I was invited to, when Julian's cousins Nick, (or NKULTRA), and Nick's sister Rose (Rosenkrieg), engaged in a quite spectacular pistol duel on Halo Blood Gulch, to the song "Golden Brown" by The Stranglers.

"Ohh come on, where is it? …Breaking Benjamin…Disturbed…Dirty Vegas…Stranglers…nope, went too far…Here we go, Enigma." Soon enough, the drums and guitars of "Shadows in Silence" fill the room. I think I got him hooked on Enigma now, ever since I introduced them to him a few months back.

We finally sit down to face each other in Timesplitters. It…well, we're really not here to talk about that now are we? We're here to talk about what happened afterwards.

Anyway, during a pause in the war, I get up and go to the kitchen for a glass of water, the drums and Sanskrit lyrics of "The Child In Us" following me. All that popcorn's really made me thirsty. I go to the sink and turn on the faucet. That was when things, to coin a cheesy movie line, got real. Blood starts pouring from the tap. I jump backwards and drop the glass I was holding, which shatters on the floor.

'What's up?" Julian calls from the other room.

"Nothing," I manage to choke out, "Just elbowed a glass off the counter."

But I know that I didn't just elbow a glass off the counter. "_But no," _I think,_" it couldn't have been. I'd killed that thing months ago. It couldn't be here now. There's no way," _

I barely have time to finish my thought. That familiar eerie moan echoes around me and the room swims before my eyes and begins to change. Paint peels from the walls; the carpet becomes old and stained. The familiar, tidy surroundings of my apartment change, now appearing as though they haven't been lived in for some time. And there's also that strange feeling of being somewhere completely…else, the slight change in air pressure, in temperature. It's very jarring if you're not ready for it, which I wasn't.

"Heather, what's going on?" I hear Julian call apprehensively from the next room. He still calls me Heather. After I'd reverted to my old name, (I told everyone that the man we were hiding from had been killed in a car crash) I told everyone that they could call me by either name, Cheryl or Heather. Julian still calls me Heather.

"Umm…Julian, come here," I say.

He comes in to the small kitchen looking worried. "What was that?" he asks.

"We have to get out of here. Now," I say, "This way."

I lead him across the now derelict living room and into my bedroom. I pull out a key from behind a loose baseboard and pull out a case from under my bed. I insert the key and turn it, opening the lock with a soft click. Inside is the Beretta 9mm pistol that I'd found during the incident. I pull it out, retract the slide and, seeing the glint of brass, let it slam foreword again. I check the magazine and slip two extra clips into the urban camouflage pants I'm wearing. (Pretty fitting pattern for the situation, now I think back about it.) I then get up, cross the room to my dresser and pull out a belt holster rig I'd bought after the incident (sticking the gun in my pocket again probably wouldn't be a good idea) and my favorite white vest from a drawer. It's served me well, and its about to do so again. I slip on the belt rig and vest. I also grab my infamous flashlight and radio, slipping them into their usual pockets. Julian watches from the door.

I walk past him into the living room once more. I consider for a minute of bringing dad's old Desert Eagle hunting pistol, but think better of it. Even without the scope usually mounted on it, it still weighs over four pounds and is clunky as sin, not to mention deafeningly loud (even more so than other guns).

"What's going on?" Julian asks again, as we head for the apartment door.

"I don't know yet. We need to get to the Hilltop Center. There's a guy I've got to see," I seem to be unable to speak in anything other than curt sentences today.

We walk out into the hallway. It looks, as it did last time, dilapidated and unused. The floor tiles are stained and the walls are caked in dirt and grime. We head for the front door to the street. I tried the lock.

It wouldn't budge.

Anger and fear bubbled inside me. No. No way. No way I'm putting Julian through this. No way on earth, no way in hell.

Oh wait, we're already there.

After a few seconds, my rage gets the better of me. I punch the still-not-opening door in anger, "Damn it!" I yell at the top of my voice. Then I suddenly remember who's standing right behind me.

"Sorry, Julian. Shouldn't swear," I say over my shoulder. I've really had to reign in my unfortunate habit lately, what with watching Julian and all.

"Alright, Julian, stand back," I say, and level a kick at the door latch. It's never worked before on these otherworld doors, but it's my last option. To my overwhelming relief, the lock gives and the door flies open, banging against its frame. To see that door swing open was like seeing someone walking up to give you a million bucks for doing nothing. I couldn't believe it. _"Maybe we're __**not**__ the targets," _I think.

Anyway, I proceed, weapon drawn, down the front steps and out onto the gray concrete of the sidewalk, Julian following close behind. We continue down the street. Now I'm really worried. Crossing open ground when things are like this isn't good. Monsters could come from anywhere, from under cars, from on rooftops, from the air. The list goes on. At least when you're in a building, you know which direction they'll most likely come from.

"What's going on, Heather?" Julian pipes up again. This seems to be the only thing he seems able to say. His eyes are wide and he's sticking close to me.

"Shh," I whisper, "You hear that?" A rustling, clinking sound is coming from up ahead, like someone shuffling along, dragging chains behind it. No, smaller: like nails or something.

Then we see it. A hunched over humanoid shambling towards us, with what look like spikes sticking out of every surface of its body, it's back, it's arms, it's legs. It's toes, which is causing the clinking sound as it walks. Looking closer, I see that they are needles. Hypodermic syringes sprouting like hair from its body.

It lunges at us. My gun is instantly up and firing at the creature. It's fast, but three well-placed shots drop it like a sack of potatoes to the ground. I walk over to it. It's clearly dead. Its impact has broken off several of the needle tips from its back. They lay like broken twigs on the ground around it, soaking in the blood it's seeping out onto the cold concrete. I look it over. It's no creature that I've ever seen. It's no split head dog, or "cancer", or "slurper". It must have been created by Julian's emotions, his fears.

"You afraid of needles, kiddo?" I ask.

"Umm, kinda," he mumbles, staring down at the creature. God I wish he didn't have to see this. "Umm…don't…don't look at it Julian," I say.

I stand up. Julian turns to me, "Alright what is this? What's going on?" he says, fear and worry lacing every syllable.

'I'll tell you, but we have to find a safe place first. Off the street."

I opt for a café to our left. The door opens (with a little help from Mr. Boot) and we enter. I make sure it's clear and then sit down, motioning for Julian to do the same.

"All right," I say, once he's sitting across from me. I pause and collect my thoughts for a second. "All right. First thing is that I can't tell you what's going on because I don't exactly know yet. Second thing is, I know who's causing it."

I then go on to explain all about me, and about my father's fight against the cult that stole his daughter; me, technically speaking, seventeen years ago. I talk about my own fight, and about my involvement with the Silent Hill Militia.

Oh, wait, did I tell you that one? No, No I didn't. I just told you about the original incident. But, for the sake of continuing the story uninterrupted by my narrating, I'm gonna cut to the part where I explain about the Militia to Julian.

"…And then we left. But as we were driving out of the town, these soldiers met us. They stopped us at the edge of town and questioned us. They said they were part of a blackest of the black SpecOps unit that the government had send in after an incident about ten years ago, when a squad of National Guardsmen had been sucked into Silent Hill. They were training in the hills around the town when they were taken. They escaped and, of coarse, informed the government. At first, they weren't believed. The suits thought they were crazy. But they sent an investigative team in anyway. After all, why would ten honorable United States soldiers, with no history of mental illness, suddenly, out of the blue, make up a crazy story like the one they were telling? Nevertheless, it was more of a joke then a serious mission or investigation, just done to calm the soldiers down. They sent in some undercover guys; investigators and a few bodyguards. Well, they were dragged in too. The cult was very active back then. Sucking in people left and right and messing with them, I don't know. Supposedly, that's where that James Sunderland disappeared to. You ever hear about him?"

"No," Julian replies.

It was in the Ashfield newspapers a while back. He supposedly disappeared around Silent Hill. I can vouch for that. I found his body, or at least I think I did. It was in Brookhaven Hospital... But anyway, after the investigative team came back, scared to death and telling the same story, the government organized the Silent Hill Militia, a super secret taskforce kept completely off the books and off the record, They didn't exist, period. I mean come on, demons and ghost towns, sounds like something out of a Stephen King novel rather then real life." I chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. It doesn't work.

I continue, "Anyway, they were created to secure this supposed "other town" that was out there. It's different levels of reality, as I've said. We, right now, are in what the Militia calls "Normalside", or "Abandonedside" Then there's the "Otherside" or "Reverse side", which, if my theory is correct, we shouldn't have to go through. Anyway, I joined up with them and they secured us safe passage out of the town when the opportunity arose, which ended up being about two weeks later. In that time, I accompanied the Militia on cleanup operations. After I killed the thing, most of the town went back to its so-called default of 'Normalside", and I helped in eliminating the last pockets of monsters still running around. The cult, leaderless and facing the death of their "god" for the second time in seventeen years, was ready to sign a truce to end the "war" that cult partisans been waging against the Militia, and mankind in general, for the past twenty-something years or so. They did, or so I thought, up until tonight's little escapade. That's why I need to see a sergeant Massfield, Jonathon Massfield, at the Hilltop center. He's my contact for the Militia,"

As I finish, Julian looks like he's been punched in the face. It's heavy stuff, and I suppose it must all sound crazy. Me, the cult, the war, the Militia; heck, I don't even know if I can believe it half the time, and I lived it. And now it's happening all over again, for me, for Julian. He's only eleven years old; way too young to be having to face this. _Any_ age is way too young.

We get up and head down the street towards the back door of the Hilltop center. Thinking back on it, why didn't we just go into Hilltop in the first place instead of sitting in the café? I don't know. It's one of those things that you think of only _after_ you've already done them.

I've never come in this way before. Last time I was here was to meet sergeant Massfield, and I used the front door. He works out of the old "Monica's Dance Studio" offices, which have now moved their dance hall to a newly constructed premises, using the hall in the building for storage. John works for them, ostensibly doing accounting and clerical work for them. In reality, he's my contact for the militia. Being as I had had more knowledge of the workings of the town and its mechanics then anyone else in the taskforce, thanks to the cult's manipulations while I was "in" Alchemilla hospital, I had risen to being a key leader in the cleanup and was formally ranked "Leutenant Mason" John Massfield was my contact if they ever needed to contact me, or vice versa, after I returned to my normal civilian life.

We head up to the back door and, finding it unlocked, enter the Hilltop Center.

* * *

What do you think of the first chapter of the first story in the Silent Hill Militia series? Leave a review of you please.

I personally believe that James never came back from Silent Hill after Silent Hill 2. All subsequent games seem to point to this fact as well, although nothing official has ever been said. You can find what many believe to be his body in the alternate Brookhaven hospital in Silent Hill 3, in the blood bucket room (It's at least James' model, you can recognize the jacket if you look closely)

I can vouch for the Desert Eagle's heaviness and clunkyness. While I've never gotten the opportunity, at the time of this writing, to actually fire one, I've held and examined several and they are very large and heavy, weighing around twice as much as normal sized automatics. The magnum rounds they fire also make them very loud due to the increased amount of powder in each casing relative to other handgun rounds. Many indoor ranges won't even allow you to shoot Desert Eagles at their facilities because of this.

The next chapter will focus on Heather and Julian's friendship during this ordeal, which is what the whole story is supposed to be about, although I had to devote a good portion of this chapter to background information on the series, which took up more space then I had predicted.

"Credits" for this chapter (Which actors the characters ought to be played by, you'll find I do this a lot in my stories. (Not many characters this time))

Music: Modern Crusaders - Enigma

Heather (Cheryl) Mason – Herself (from the games)

Julian Kansler - Giovani Antonio Cimmino

Writer – Cyber 14

As there hasn't, to my knowledge, been any canonical timeline put out by Konami for the series, save for the fact that Silent Hill 3 happened 17 years after Silent Hill 1, and number 2 happened somewhere in between, I'm assuming that Silent Hill 3 is set in the "present" year.

I may edit this at a later time for structure or content. Your suggestions are much appreciated.

Peace out and God bless.


	3. You Are To Me

Hey. Chapter two is now up. I'll be switching between Heather's point of view and Julian's later in the story. It starts out in Heather's.

I'm also going to try something new. I'm going to use music cues in here, indicating when a certain song will play. Tell me if they work, or if they impede the flow of the story.

Once again, Konami owns everything except for my characters and monsters, and the story itself.

* * *

We're here.

We're now on the third floor of the Hilltop Center office complex. Standing in the hall outside the Monica's Dance Studio office. To our left is their old dance hall, now used to store equipment, mats, and other bits of junk that they don't have room for at their new location. To our right is the rest of the hall, which contains, among other things, a locker room for the dancers that used to come and practice here.

I open the door and walk inside. To my utter surprise, John is sleeping in his desk chair. He's a tall man, with a thin face, and dark brown hair. I decide to wake him. I take a newspaper from the cluttered desk and roll it up…

Smack.

"Ahh, Ahh. What?"

"Evening, John. You mind telling me what's going on?" I say, as he gets his bearings, "No one I know can sleep through a world-shift."

"World shift, what are you…Ohh shit," he mumbles, looking around at his derelict surroundings.

-Smack- "You mind your language in front of Julian," I hiss.

"Whoa. Whoa, easy there, LT. Holy hell…" –smack-

"That also includes blasphemy. Now, John," I say, circling his chair slowly, "Your file said you were a little lazy, but this borders on incompetence. You better have a pretty good explanation ready. And I mean 'I was abducted by aliens' good, and you better have proof."

"Well, I was up all last night and today, and I was wearing earplugs. Do you know how hard it is to keep up with the paperwork for this dance studio _and_ keep up a reliable means of communication between Silent Hill and here? I'm not just sitting back and watching my a…" he eyes the rolled up newspaper still in my hand "…belly grow."

"Wow, I had no idea you found your job so stressful. I'll put in a call and see if I can't get you a transfer back to active duty. They always could use another target…I mean soldier, to help with the cleanup. And from the looks of it, something's up,"

"Yeah," he says under his breath, apparently ignoring my last jibe, "What's with that?"

"I was hoping you could tell me. We're in Normalside here. And there are monsters out there. New ones."

"New ones, huh? Like what?" John asks, interested.

"Needles, all over its body. Fast. Weak though. Three shots or so takes it down."

"Interesting. Did you get any pictures, samples, anything like that?"

"Ohh I'm awfully sorry, Johnny boy, but I forgot. I was more concerned with getting Julian here to safety."

"Ahh, Julian. Right, what's the deal with him?" he says, lowering his voice, "Peripheral?"

"Yeah, got sucked in along with me," I say sadly.

"Aww, that's a shame. Is he armed?"

'Armed? Are you kidding? He's eleven years old. He has been read in, though. He knows about all of it. I figured he may as well get it all from me, firsthand. Better then anyone else giving him distorted facts, even if they don't know it themselves."

"Well he should still have some protection. You remember that wall-burrowing incident at Pete's Bowl-O-Rama last month? You were there, weren't you? Or did you already leave?"

"I was there. And I know for a fact that that it only happened because the squad leader was afraid of being buried alive. Ex-miner. Besides, he isn't here. It's just us," I say.

'Still…"

"Look. I want to keep him out of this as much as possible. I don't want him involved in this war. Right now, he can sign the Secret Actions Act and go back to a normal life. But if we allow him to fight, he may get hurt, or killed. I promised his parents that I'd watch out for him, and come hell or high water," I say in a low whisper, chuckling at the inherent irony in that statement, "I'm gonna do that,"

"So protect him. He may just as well get killed standing in this office. Better to arm him now then bury him later and wish you had," John retorts.

'Okay, fine," I relent, "Set him up. I'm going to talk to HQ and find out what exactly is going on out there," I say, as I head for the door.

"Julian," I say, as I pass him, "John'll will set you up with something for protection. I'm gonna go call HQ."

"You think I'll need it?" Julian asks, looking worried.

"Probably not," I try to reassure him, "But better safe than sorry."

I head over into the dance hall proper. This room serves as a storage area for the things the studio can't store in their new location. As such, it is literally stuffed with the various odds and ends necessary to run a dance studio; mats, balance beams, exercise bars, and other odds and ends in cardboard boxes pushed into corners.

I cross the room to one of these cardboard boxes and open it. Inside is a compact radio with a direct feed to a listening post on the outskirts of Silent Hill. It ended up needing to be blessed by a military chaplain before it could penetrate out into the outside world, but now it is one of the only direct links to the outside from within the alternate Silent Hill. I turn it on, key the wide emergency band, and press the talk button.

"Wayward Soul to Redemption's Gate, Wayward Soul to Redemption's Gate, do you read? We have a 6-0 with a peripheral. I repeat; we have a 6-0 situation with a peripheral out here. I need a sitrep, over. Redemption's Gate, respond," I wait for a few seconds, and hear the crackle of the transmission.

"Roger Wayward Soul, this is Redemption's Gate. We've got a bit of a situation out here. Nothing too serious, just some local terrorist activity. There's still a good number of 'em out there you know. Looks like a few of them decided to throw a party, and you must be getting some fallout. We're looking for the trigger items now, but don't hold your breath. We have absolutely no idea what we're looking for. Could take all night. Over," the operator responded.

"Great," I say sarcastically, "Call in when you find something. Over and out."

I drop the line, pick up the radio, and head back to the office. John and Julian are standing by the desk, which is littered with numerous handguns; a Glock or two, a nickel-plated SIG Pro, a stainless Beretta Cheetah, and a few revolvers I don't recognize. Massfield is holding a large .357 Magnum revolver and is explaining its operation to Julian. He spins the cylinder once and flicks it closed with his wrist.

"Ehy," I call, "You're gonna wreck the cylinder crane doing that,"

"Sorry, Lieutenant," he smiles sheepishly, "Old habit,"

He continues, "The weight's a good thing, it's a sign of reliability, and you always want that. A gun's no good if it jams on you. Then all you got is an expensive bludgeon. Come to think of it, this baby'd make a good one of those too, heavy as it is,"

"He's not going to need to be clubbing anything. And besides, he needs a self defense piece, not a hand cannon," I say, walking over to the desk and inspecting the various firearms strewn across it. I pick up the nickel SIG; an SP2340 in .357 SIG, "How about this one? I used one once. They're great guns," I say.

"Wouldn't happen to have been Corporal Harlinger's backup piece would it?" John asks.

"Yep," I reply, "I was outta 9mm and he had a 12 gauge, so he gave me the gun. Great piece. It's accurate, light, and these .357 SIG rounds pack serious punch. How's it feel?" I ask, passing the weapon to Julian, who looks it over.

"I'll take it," he replies.

"Has a bit of kick though. I'd recommend testing it first," I look over at Julian, who nods.

We head out into the hall and John, after passing out earplugs and safety glasses, instructs Julian to fire at the far wall. (All the damage would of coarse be gone when we shifted out of Normalside) He does, and John tells him to try and hit the same spot again, giving tips on grip and sighting as he goes, as well as the gun handling rules, I.E. finger off the trigger, keep your muzzle pointed in a safe direction, ect. This goes on for a few more shots, after which I'm satisfied that Julian can handle it. He's actually a pretty good shot, better then I was when I first faced these monsters.

We head back into the office and sit down. Minutes pass, Julian looking over his newly issued sidearm, John poking through his cabinets for anything that might, in any way, help us with our situation, and me trying to raise headquarters again.

"I still can't get anything," I say exasperatedly, as the warded radio emits static for the hundredth time in twenty minutes.

"Well maybe…" he's cut off as the lights go out.

"Circuit breaker," John says, "We'll have to turn it back on,"

He's right. In a world-shift fallout area like this one, the lights going off are a very common occurrence. We'll have to go downstairs and trip the breaker. Well, I think ruefully, at least we won't have to worry about any convoluted 'puzzles'. The town only subjects 'target parties'; that is, people who the town wants to test in some way, to its annoying fetch quests. That was what the radioman was talking about when he mentioned 'trigger items'; puzzle pieces. It's more of an annoyance then a serious challenge. Its purpose is to subject you to the full extent of the "Otherworld" and to hopefully drive you mad or something. I don't know.

"You know, a couple of months ago, all this would have seemed really strange to me." I say with a chuckle,

"Who wants to go?" John asks.

"Ehhh, I'll get it, John, cover me." I answer, like I'm just going out to get the mail, heading for the door.

Can't. They've randomized callsigns now that we're in world shift. If they need more information, I need to be here to reply with the proper response. You're either gonna have to go by yourself or take Julian with you. It should be safe. Fallout zones like this rarely have more than one or two monsters in them. Trust me, personal experience," John says with a hint of distaste, "Just cover Julian and you'll be fine. Treat him like an escort, like they showed you how to do with Father Wickwire that one time. All you need him for is to cover you while you fix the fuses. Only one entrance to the breaker room anyway."

"Nonononono," I say, flatly refusing to even consider the possibility of taking Julian along with me, "He's not leaving this room. I don't need cover."

"It's our best option, maybe not the ideal, but it's all we have. Two guns is always better then one. Remember Private Peterson?"

"Ughhh, how could I forget?" Private Peterson went in alone to break a world-shift in Alchemilla hospital and was found later, dead of blood loss. He was paralyzed and couldn't dress his wounds. Must've been a terrible way to go. Now I'm seeing John's point. He's always had this way of convincing you of anything, instentaniously, throughperfectly executed examples, and I'm not so glad to say it worked.

"OK OK, But for the record, this is an insanely stupid and bafflingly irresponsible move. But I guess we don't have a choice," I say, turning to Julian, "you gotta come with me, Julian. I just need someone to hold the shotgun and cover me while I fix the power."

"OK," he says, his voice filled with apprehension.

"Firstly, do you promise to obay any order I give you, without question and without hestitation?"

"Yeah," he replies, an even more worried edge to his voice now.

"If I tell you to run, you will do so?"

"Yeah,"

"If I tell you to hide, will you do so?"

"Yeah,"

"If I tell you to go back and save yourself, you will do so? Without hesitation?"

"Yeah,"

"Good. Then no worries then," I say, putting a reassuring hand on Julian's shoulder, "You'll be perfectly safe with me. Okay?"

He nods worriedly.

"If we're not back in ten…" I say.

"Call the next of kin," John replies automatically. It's a semi-joking sendoff.

We head out of the dance hall and back into enemy territory. The breakers are in the basement so we head for the staircase. We head down. Thankfully, none of the doors are locked. The rest of the complex looks very similar to the dance hall we just vacated, but there's something different; a pervading sense of evil that seems to bleed from every surface, like a disease. It makes you uneasy. To combat this, I decide to strike up a conversation.

"Julian…Julian,' I repeat the name thoughtfully, "Who were you named for, if you don't mind me asking? The saint?"

"My Uncle Julian from Colorado, and the saint too, I suppose," he replies his voice more even now, "Saint Julian of Norwich. I don't know, maybe that's one of the places where they got the name, which would be strange 'cause she was a girl."

"Name goes both ways," I reply.

"I know," he says.

"What was that quote of hers," I ask, "All will be well. All will be well. Everything, everywhere will be well. Something like that, anyway,"

"I think it goes 'All will be well, and all will be well, and everything, everywhere will be well,"

" 's what I said,"

"No it wasn't,"

"Yes it was,"

"No it wasn't,"

"Aarg. This could go on all night. I'm ending this here,"

"Yay, I win,"

"No you don't,"

We eventually reach the basement doorway. It was a small steel door off of the back entrance, pretty unremarkable. This may be easier then I thought, I think as I open it.

We proceed down the stairs and along the basement corridor. I see an opening up ahead. We approach it. It's a widening of the hallway, alongside a basement loading lift. I proceed through first. I recoil in shock, however, when I see what is lining the walls of the hallway, behind sections of grate in the walls. They were bodies, in body bags. They looked like they…no, I'm not gonna describe them here. I'm drawing the line at this. You wanna know what they looked like, you come and ask me in person. But not here…no.

"Freeze, Julian," I say sharply. He stops in his tracks. "Stay right where you are. Don't move a muscle."

This is the absolute worst of Normalside. Usually you don't start encountering things like this until you hit 'Reverse side'. But there are exceptions, and this is apparently one of them.

I walk slowly to the opposite end of the hallway, trying not to look at the spectacle lining the walls. When I reach the end, I turn on the spot. Now I have to get Julian across.

"Julian," I call, "Listen to exactly what I'm saying. Walk towards me. NoNoNo not yet. When I tell you. Keep your eyes on me. Don't look away from me. It's…dangerous,"

"Dangerous,"

"Yeah, dangerous. There's…things in here,"

He nods, and I continue. 'Alright, walk towards me now. Eyes front. That's it, come on. You're doing great," I say. He's walking towards me, keeping his eyes locked onto me, just like I told him.

"Come on. Eyes front, Julian. Almost there. Eyes on me. All right, run. Run. Run. Good. We're past it. Man I hate those things," I say with a shudder. They weren't actually dangerous, but Julian doesn't need to be seeing…things like that. Even I'm a little queasy, and I'm used to it.

Anyway, we reach the breaker room and enter. I turn the breakers back on, Julian covering me, and we head back up to the dance hall. It was pretty uneventful. Only thing of note is that on our way back, I gave Julian a blindfold for the infamous hall. I don't like lying to him, but I feel that it's for his own good. (Later on, he does get wise, but understands, so no harm done)

We head back into our newly relit dance hall office. John is waiting for us there. He reports that he hasn't gotten anything. He also suggests that we, because we may be here all night, try to get some sleep.

We lug the radio over into the dance hall proper, and prop it up on some boxes. We flip a coin for the office couch, and John wins. He heads for his office while we are left with the dance hall.

We get settled in, and I head over to the office to scrounge up any and all blankets I can steal from John before he settles in.

-Music cue: Lost in Here, Silent Hill: Origins soundtrack-

"He trusts you, you know," John says, seemingly out of the blue, as I'm rummaging through his cabinets for something to make a bed out of; a blanket or pillow or anything.

"I sigh, "I know,"

"That's a great thing. No one trusts anymore," John replies.

"Well, I'm trying to earn that trust," I reply, "I don't know. I've never dealt with something like this. I mean, I've lead people before, squads of soldiers and the like. But that's just it, I've lead trained soldiers who could hold their own, soldiers who were drilled and conditioned to fighting and risking their lives. Julian's just a kid. I…I don't know. I feel like…like nothing I do can protect him, and that he could be attacked at any minute."

"Relax," John says, "While you were down in the basement I got this place warded through the roof. Nothing short of Satan himself could get through the blessings that'r on it now,"

"Well if you've done it right, even _he_ shouldn't be able to get in here," I say slyly.

"It was a joke. Seriously, only a full-blown church has better protection. I got the full 'bolt hole kit' from Chaplain Simmons. Every possible blessing and ward the Militia's got are on this place right now. Someone must've thought you were pretty valuable to the cause. And come on, Julian can handle himself. The body instinctively reacts to attack, summons combat skill you didn't even know you had. He'll be fine."

"I know," I say softly, "But still, I dragged him into this, and I'm gonna see him through."

I find the blankets, stored there for employee breaks and the like, and manage to grab the pillow before John finds it. After all, he has a couch; all we have is the floor.

Then we settle in and wait.

Julian's POV.

We're hunkered down now, in this old dance hall, waiting for a transmission from this "Heaven's Gate" outpost. Honestly I don't know what to make of all this. Heather explained it to me, but I'm still having a hard time believing it. But how can't I? The evidence is all around me, and Heather wouldn't lie, not about something like this.

Maybe I should start calling her Cheryl, now that she's using her old name again.

She's sitting here next to me. We haven't spoken since we settled down here. Honestly, I'm glad she's here. Her presence is a comfort. Heck, even if she had sat by the door or at the window, she would have still been a reassuring presence.

Even if she's the reason we're here in the first place I'm glad she's here. It wasn't her fault. She said they'd signed a truce. She couldn't possibly have known. Still, I want to know what our chances are against this.

Heather's POV

"Heather…are you sure we're gonna make it outta this?" Julian asks timidly.

"Of coarse we are. We'll get through this. I've dealt with much worse in my time than this little hiccup." I reassure him, trying to inject a note of humor into the conversation.

He looks me full in the face, his blue eyes glistening like searchlights in the semi-darkness, seeking reassurance, "Promise you won't, Y'know… go anywhere?" he asks softly.

I put an arm around him. "I promise. I'm staying right here," I say.

I can tell that he needs me, now. He needs me to be strong, to help him through this. I know because that was exactly the way _I_ felt the first time I was thrust into this screwed up place. That day, I would have killed for a friendly face in that gloom, a reassuring smile in that endless dark. I've always styled myself as a bit of loner, never needing anyone. My attitude changed that day.

I had never really pictured myself as the needy, clingy type. But there I was, latching onto Douglas, the only friendly face I had seen in God knows how long. Now, my role is reversed. Someone needs _me_ now, and I'm not going to let him feel the same way I did that day.

I eventually suggest that one of us try to get some sleep. I say we'll take it in shifts; one of us sleeps while the other mans the radio. I create a makeshift bed out of an exercise mat and the blanket and pillow I retrieved from the office. After I've laid it out, we flip a coin to see which one of us stays up. I lose, and Julian gets to take it for its first test-sleep. He lays down and after about five minutes, is asleep, breathing softly.

I try the band again, nothing. I try for a half hour. Nothing, not a garbled word or distorted phrase, just static and various sound artifacts. This goes on, like I said, for half an hour. That's when I hear Julian stir. He's rustling around on the makeshift cot, seemingly in the throes of a nasty looking nightmare, pretty understandable, given the situation.

Anyway, It's time for me to play the protective friend card. I move over on my hands and knees and shake him on the shoulder. He wakes up, and sits bolt upright so fast I barely have time to see it. He looks quickly around the room for a few seconds and proceeds to bowl me over in a bone crushing fear-hug. I look down my newly acquired armful of scared boy, and see that he's shaking; actually visibly shaking, like he's cold. But I know that he's just woken up from the mother of all nightmares. I decide to do something about that.

"Hey, hey, whoa kiddo. What…what's wrong?" I ask to the top of his head. I get no intelligible response. Having absolutely no frame of reference on how to handle this, I settle for hugging him protectively to me.

"Hey. Bad dream?" I ask softly. I feel his head nod against my chest. He's still shaking, 'Well that's all it is, a dream. That's all it is. This place'll do that to you. Happens to me more times then I'd care to admit," I say, attempting a chuckle.

"Don't go," he whispers fearfully, clutching my vest. He sounds so scared, so lost. This is Julian like I've never seen him. This is Julian open. This is Julian afraid and needing reassurance. I have to remind myself that he's just a kid, not a soldier, just a kid, an eleven-year-old boy, in over his head.

I continue to comfort him, whispering things like "It's okay," and "It was only a dream," and "Everything's gonna be alright," Tired, stock phrases from parents' lexicons the world over. But it's strange how often we forget how much people sometimes need to hear those words, those familiar, comforting words that seem to drive all the fear away.

After a while he calms down and lays back onto the cot, clumsily wiping his face with his sleeve. "You alright?" I ask, as he settles in.

He's already drifting off to sleep as he responds, "Yeah,"

"Well, get some rest. I'll be right here. Holler if you need anything," I say as he closes his eyes. After a few more seconds, I add, "We'll be okay, kiddo,"

"I know, Heather. I'm with _you_," he whispers. Julian has always been possessed of a sledgehammer blunt honesty. It shows itself rarely, but when it does, like now, it's both disconcerting and wonderful to hear; the blunt honesty of a kid, something we all seem to lose at some point.

He's still talking in that other voice. That voice of such fear, mixed with such profound trust. Only situations like these can bring out that voice in people, the voice that the ever- grandiosely philosophical Chaplain Simmons calls "The Soul's True Voice" It's the voice only medics hear, the voice of such honesty, not bound by embarrassment or the perceived need to appear 'tough'. It's the voice of you, not society speaking through you, just **you**, clear as clear, a look into your soul.

Well, if he was honest with me, I may as well be straight up with him, too. "I'm not perfect, Julian," I say, "I'm doing my best, but I'm not…"

"You are to me," he says softly, almost asleep. He mumbles something else, but he's already gone. I make out the word 'trust' before he falls asleep completely.

Right now, I'm a bit shocked. I knew we were friends, but I never knew he trusted me that much. How could I ever live up to that? What did I do to earn that trust? I eventually put it off to him being out of it, asleep, not thinking clearly. Still, I smile; and reach down to smooth his sweaty bangs from his face. "All will be well, and all will be well, and everything, everywhere, will be well," I whisper softly, remembering our earlier conversation.

I return to the radio. His shift comes, but I don't have the heart to wake him.

A half an hour later, I start to feel a chill, and the depressurization that comes with…

I look around. The wallpaper is seemingly cleaning itself. The floor is polishing its surface, and the lightbulbs are fixing themselves back into single tubes of glass, coming together with a slight 'shhhick'

We're back in the real world.

The radio crackles to life, and a tired sounding radioman informs me that they've found the trigger items and lifted the world-shift.

"Yeah," I say with a laugh heavy with relief "I've kinda figured out that one for myself,"

We head over into the office to a groggy, but beaming Massfield.

"Yeaha, we can finally get outta here. I'll just need Julian to sign the Secret Actions Act and we can be on our way," John brings the document forward for Julian to look over.

"Who is he allowed to tell?" I ask, "What's the level?"

"Sorry to break it to you, but the brass sent us down a Black. He can't tell anyone," John informs me sadly.

"But we have to let his parents know, we have to explain what's happened,"

"We can't, Heather. There's no arguing with these people. Black. Nil, nada, no one. I'm sorry. It ain't my call,"

"That's cruel. How could they make him lie to…"

"The operation last night was bigger then they expected,' John interrupts me, "Much bigger. A lot of senior cult members were involved. Something's happening. Something big. The brass assures me they've got it under control but… I don't know. Anyway, that's why Black."

"What if he has…psychological…issues?" I ask in an undertone.

'If he gets PTSD or anything then you have a case, but until then, nothing."

"Oh, yeah, gamble with his mental health. I'd like to get those guys down here right now. They're all up there, safe in Washington. They've never set foot in Silent Hill. They have no right to…"

"You're preaching to the coir, LT. The point is; we have no choice. Besides, Julian seems fine, well except for that nightmare last night, but that was from ambient disturbance, not PTSD. Look, Julian hasn't seen much, just that one monster, you said. He'll be fine. And if he isn't, then we'll talk to the suits,"

"This could all be avoided…"

"I know, I know, Okay. Go home. Get some rest. I'll call you with an updated Sitrep in the morning," he finishes.

"Right," I say wearily.

Five minutes later we're back in my apartment. My ever-faithful Ipod is now belting out "Dissolved Girl" by Massive Attack to the empty room. We pass the rest of the night in silence, neither of us wanting to talk about the situation. We're both just too drained.

In the morning Julian's dad, a tall, brown haired man in his mid-forties, comes to pick him up.

"We should be going, Julian," he says, as Julian gathers his things, "We've intruded on your generous hospitality long enough," he adds, addressing me.

'Right-O, dad," Julian calls.

"I'll bring the car up then." Mr. Kansler says, and heads for the door.

Julian gathers the last of his things, and turns toward the door. He stops, and looks back at me. He looks me square in the face.

"Heather, what I said last night. I meant what I said," he says, gathering his bag in his arms. He turns, and heads for the door.

"Wait," I call after him, "Why? Why…what's so great about me anyway. Why do you…trust me? I mean, I dragged you into a war last night, unwillingly, of coarse, but still… Of all the people on this earth that you should trust, I'm not one of them. I did my best to help, but…"

"Exactly," he interrupts, a little exasperatedly, "You did your best. Last night was not your fault. Really. You did your best and that's all you can do. That's as perfect as you can be. Everything else…is outta your hands," he says flatly, "Once again, I meant what I said."

He turns and heads for the door a third time, "See ya, Heather," he calls over his shoulder.

Well, there's another side of Julian I don't see every day. He apparently has a philosophical streak to rival Yoda.

I think about his words, "…..Once again, I meant what I said,"

I smile. I've done my job; at least as far as last night was concerned.

If, out of all of this, he remembers that, and only that; that's true victory over Silent Hill.

And all will be well, and all will be well, and everything, everywhere will be well.

…..

Credits: (Music: In the Shadow, In the Light – Enigma/Rain of Brass Petals - Akira Yamaoka)

Heather (Cheryl) Mason – Herself (from the games)

Julian Kansler - Himself

John Massfield: Matt Damon

Writer – Cyber 14

A Cyber 14 Production. Copyright 2007 All rights reserved.

What did you think? Read and Review please. That little purple button is your best friend. Spend some time with him.

I may write a sequel in the future. This is just volume 1. Of coarse, that al depends on the reaction to this volume. I also didn't use the music cues as often as I would have liked. I cut out a scene with an additional one. It would have featured "Evil Angel" by Breaking Benjamin.

I know I didn't use Julian's point of view much, it just didn't happen.

Peace out and God bless.


	4. Epilogue: And Death Shall Have no Domini

This is just a little epilogue set after the end of the story. It popped into my head one day and refused to leave until I'd written it down. I wrote it mainly to showcase some members of Julian's family and friends, who may be appearing in future stories.

It takes place roughly a week after the previous chapter.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

_No one has greater love than this, to lay down one's life for one's friends. (John 15:13)_

He rounded the crest of the hill, his feet pounding on the lush, green grass. He raised and sighted in his rifle, taking aim at an object in the distance. His finger tightened on the trigger, and…

Boom.

He was blown sky high, raining back down to earth with little clumps of dirt and grass falling all around him.

"Aww, man. I was on such a roll that time," Julian says, as he shakes his head, his character just now respawning, holding nothing but a pistol.

I walk back in from the kitchen after getting a drink, and pause to look at the scene in front of me.

It's another one of the Kanslers' famous gaming parties, this time at Nick and Rose's house. Julian's cousins throw one annually, for area family and friends. Currently, Julian and Nick's sister Rose, a skinny 13 year old with blonde hair arranged in a long braid, are duking it out on Nick and Rose's Xbox, while the song "Blue Lines" by Massive Attack plays softly in the background, almost drowned out by the sounds of combat. The song doesn't really fit the situation, but it's just going through the playlist song-by-song. No one seems to care, though, as they're all focused on the spectacle of floor wiping unfolding in front of them.

Yep, Julian is losing, and it's almost Nick's turn. Nick's better then Julian, but never in his 12 years, to my knowledge, has he ever managed to beat Rose when she pulls out her sniper rifle. The only reason Nick beat Rose in their famous duel was that all she had was a pistol. But, when Nick lays hands on a Needler…

Well now I'm getting off topic.

I walk over and crouch down beside Julian, nudging his friend Eli, a short kid with a balloon shaped head and long brown hair, out of the way. I need to talk to Julian face to face.

"Hey, man, listen," I say, "Ooh, to your left. Left!"

"Uhuh?" he replies.

'Reload, you've only got one round,"

"I'm on it,"

"Now why wouldn't you have thirteen? Twelve in the mag, one in the chamber,"

"I don't think the developers thought about it that hard."

"Probably right. Hey, when you're done, I need to talk to you,"

"Right-O, after I kill Rosie here,"

"Excuse me. Kill who?" Rose pipes up, "Seems to me that I'm the one doing all the killing around here," she says, before squeezing off a shot that drops Julian for the tenth time, "That's game to me. Ha!" she says triumphantly, imitating Mrs. Krabappel from the Simpsons' famous exclamation and waving her controller in the air, "Who's next into the grinder? Nick?"

Her tall, brown haired brother shakes his head, "I'll pass,"

"You can't. You're next on the rotation, so take it like a man,"

Grumbling, Nick plops down in Julian's vacated seat and picks up his controller.

"Let's go into the kitchen, Julian," I say. When we get to the entrance, I stop and glance back into the living room. The battle's started up again.

"Aw you've got to be kidding me. Spawn camper," Nick is yelling.

"Come on, Nick. Waste her," pipes up Rose's friend Connor, a tall, square-headed boy with brown hair.

"All I can say is _thanks_ for your unending support, Con," Rose replies, sounding offended.

"Hey, someone's got to cheer on Nicks, here. No one's rooting for him. And you know I never take sides,"

"He's got the twins," she replies, gesturing to two almost identical blonde-headed figures sitting along the wall, "Ain't that right, Jess, Kates?" Jessie and his sister Katie look at each other.

"Don't drag us into this," They say at the _exact_ same time. It's really creepy when they do that, and they _know_ it. I swear, I've _never_ seen two people who look so much alike. It's like they're clones. I'd swear they were, if one of them wasn't a girl.

And so the battle resumes, to the tune of "Bodies" by Drowning Pool, a more fitting song in my opinion.

Chuckling, I turn back to Julian, who's fishing himself another root beer from the box in the fridge. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asks, opening the can with a _kcicck._

"How're you doing?" I ask. Neither of us needs to ask why.

"Good. Better then I thought I'd do. A few dreams now and then, but nothing major. I don't know. _Should_ I be having problems?" he asks warily.

"No, no. Not necessarily. That's good, that you're not having any."

"To be honest, from my point of view. I really didn't see much that was scary," he goes on, "I mean sure, the monster you killed was crazy, but it wasn't like I was constantly afraid. What I remember most was sitting in that office listening to you and John bicker like an old married couple."

We both laugh.

"Well that's great. I've been feeling really guilty," I say, relief clear in my voice.

We're silent for a long time. Julian eventually breaks it.

"Hey thanks," he says.

"For what,"

"For like…Y'know…caring," he says awkwardly.

Another silence.

"I've got something for you," I say after a while. I pull it out of my pocket and hand it to him. It's a necklace: a set of dog tags and a cross pendant. The dog tags contain his name and some basic medical information.

"Every Militiaman wears one exactly like it. And I thought you'd like to have one, seeing as how you've served with us. Congratulations, Julian, you are now an official member of the Silent Hill Militia. Well I should say unofficial, as you haven't technically gone through any training, but I'm calling you official. Anyone who has to face what we faced is official in my book."

I continue, my tone softer, "I got your back, kiddo. You know that? I dragged you into this, so if there's anything you need, anything at all; help, support, someone to talk to about any of this or anything at all, give me a holler, and I'd be more then willing to help,"

"Thanks, Heather," he says softly. I can tell he's touched by what I'd said.

"Hey, let's get back to the party," I say, changing the subject, "It'll be nice to get back to playing again," We'd taken a break from four-on-four multiplayer to do one-on-one duels. Jessie and Katie had brought over their Xbox and we'd hooked it up in the basement. It had been me, Julian, Nick and Rose, Versus Jessie, Katie, Conner and Eli.

Julian turns to me, looking me right in the eyes. He salutes me, "Lieutenant," he says, his tone serious. I can tell he's not joking, not kidding around, that he actually means it as a sign of respect. I return his salute, just as if I was saluting an actual Militia soldier. "Militiaman," I reply. (Militiaman is another term for a private or other such rank. Militia rank structure is necessarily flexible, due to the unique environment we fight in and the unique situation we face, but Militiaman generally means a new recruit, not that Julian _is_ a recruit, but the term seemed to fit.)

I drop the salute. Nick's voice drifts in from the next room. "Hey, Julian, Heather, we need ya. We're in serious trouble over here. The twins've got a warthog. We need backup. Now!"

We look at each other, and leave the kitchen. It's time to, once again, even the odds.

End 

………………………………………..

Blue Lines was actually the song playing on my iPod as I was writing this, so I stuck it in here. Excellent and classic song by one of my favorite bands. "Bodies" is a good song too, played, actually, at a gaming party I went to while in the process of writing this.

Credits: (Note, many characters have no actor equivilants that I've found. Any suggestions would be appreciated) 

Music: Protection – Massive Attack

Heather Mason: Herself (from the games)

Julian Kansler: Giovani Antonio Cimmino

Rose Kansler: no actor specifically

Nick Kansler: a younger Liam Aiken, a la Good Boy or Series of Unfortunate Events

Eli Locklear: no one in particular

Connor Johnson: Josh Hutcherson

Katie Kansler: Alexandra Beaton

Jessie Kansler: a boy version of the previous.

I actually have two actors in here that played characters in 300. Giovani Cimmino played Leonidas' son Pleistarchos and Alexandra Beaton played the girl from the burned village. (Yes, it was a girl. There's been a lot of arguing about that among fans. I actually thought it was a boy at first. It was clarified in the DVD commentary for that scene that it was in fact, a girl.)

As you may have figured out, they're playing Halo. I've left _which_ Halo is being played as ambiguous, as there's never been a consensus as to in what year SH3 takes place. I've heard the years 2000, 2003, and the "present" year. I'm inclined to believe the third.

Julian's character went through several drafts over the past few months. He was originally blonde, and was a lot more hyper and squirrelly then he is now. His "couch jump" from the first chapter was a relic of his old hyper ways. He was also originally more of the "scared kid" horror movie stereotype, just to give Heather something to protect, but he eventually evolved into a (hopefully) better-rounded and more interesting character. His relationship with Heather evolved from more of the "distant acquaintance" type to a closer friendship as his character evolved. His age also shifted between 9 and 11 years old for a while. I eventually settled on the latter.

The Militia actually came into my mind after finding the IMI Uzi in Silent Hill 3. The idea of some soldiers or some-such fighting in Silent Hill popped into my head. It was originally one guy, sort of a "loner demon hunter" type. Then it evolved into a few armed citizens, and then it finally solidified into the Special Forces group it is today (with the Uzi in prominent use).

Well, hopefully I've honed these characters and this story into something worth reading and worth continuing.

Read and Review, Please.

Peace out and God bless.


End file.
